Only Her Undercover Spy Read online

  Devon smiled. He should go see his parents, sisters, brothers-in-law, and nephews. He missed them. They all had a nice, safe life just north of San Francisco, California, in Mill Valley. His home was almost as pretty as this valley with the redwood trees towering everywhere. It had been a few months since he’d visited his home and family. He needed to keep the connections strong with the people who mattered to him. Maybe after this job.

  He waited in the shadows of large birch tree, watching the older lady slice and dice and hoping for another sighting of the blonde. Was it his maid from this morning?

  Finally, he caught movement on the stairs, and then the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen floated down them. The sight had him taking a quick breath and leaning forward. It was his blonde, but she wasn’t dressed in a T-shirt and slacks any longer. Instead, she’d swapped to a fitted pink-and-white polka-dotted dress that showed off her trim, tanned shoulders, arms, and legs from just above the knees down. The dress was flattering and classy and made his heart thump as if he’d been caught red-handed with surveillance equipment on the president.

  Her long curls danced across her shoulders and upper back, and her beautiful face was enhanced by light makeup and pink lipstick that matched her dress. Her lips were fuller than he remembered, with a pouty bottom lip that made him want to taste and savor its softness.

  “Whoo-ee, you off to hook a man or do your job?” the older lady asked. Her voice carried easily through the open window.

  “Grams,” his blonde reprimanded her. “I’m going to work. There is nothing wrong with looking good, especially with the client we have coming in today. Supposedly, he’s a fine-looking millionaire from Italy.” She whistled.

  Grams laughed. “You be careful with those Italians, Miss Hottie Pants.” She smacked her on the rear, and Devon’s eyebrows went up. “Those boys are too charming for their own good.”

  Devon’s gut churned. His beautiful housekeeper was obviously not a housekeeper, and she was excited to meet Antonio Jasper. His estimation of “Miss Hottie Pants” went down a few notches, though he knew that wasn’t fair to her; Antonio could convince the Pope that he was a saint. Nobody should be anticipating time spent with Antonio, least of all this incredible woman. The man was as likely to nab Devon’s blonde for sex trafficking as he was to add her to his own harem in Tuscany. Devon blew out a breath. He’d have to watch her close, very close. For some reason, that made his gut settle and warm up.

  “We’ll see.” She looked at her phone. “I’d better go. I need to deal with some emails before Mr. VIP gets here.” She bent and kissed her grams.

  Devon stepped deeper into the shadows of the thick woods as she strode out the rear door, across the gravel road, and toward the path to the lodge, staying on the wooded path rather than head to the main road. Her heels sank slightly in the path, but she plowed on, not seeming to notice or care.

  He cautiously followed her. Dared he intercept? It would be out of character for him, but maybe he could simply say hi, find out her name, and make certain she didn’t fall prey to “Mr. VIP.” That grated at him. The scumbag drug dealer shouldn’t be treated as a VIP. Still, he had to admit that Antonio had been impressively successful at hiding his true business practices behind his winery business, which had been in his family for generations. That was why Devon had been hired by Interpol with contacts in the CIA working with him to get the info to rat the man out. Every country would benefit from Antonio being eradicated, especially America.

  Maybe it was the wrong move, but watching those lean legs mince their way up the path made him long to know a little bit about her, to at least put a name to his fantasies of the housekeeper turned executive who lived in that beautiful cabin with her grams.

  Increasing his pace, he also increased the sound of his footfalls. The blonde glanced over her shoulder with a curious glance and only a slight show of trepidation. Did she not feel fear of being in the woods with an unknown man pursuing her? Was she simply too trusting, or was it confidence in her surroundings and the people she usually came in contact with? She’d had concern in her aqua-blue eyes when he’d stormed up to her in his suite and she’d pulled the toilet scrubber on him, but he’d been impressed by her bravery. He smiled at the memory.

  When she saw it was him, she stopped walking and spun around. Putting a hand on her hip, she tossed her long curls and asked, “So you finally put your shirt on all the way?”

  Devon grinned and glanced down at his shirt and tie. “I usually get dressed for the day, except when I check into a hotel after midnight and a beautiful housekeeper walks in on me at eight a.m.”

  She smiled. “I’m truly sorry about that. We’ve got it in your file with an exclamation point now: ‘Do not attempt to clean this room, unless you want to get flashed by a beautiful chest!’” Her cheeks turned a becoming pink.

  Devon crossed the distance to her, unable to hide his pleasure. “You think my chest is beautiful?” He barely resisted flexing.

  She glanced over his chest before meeting his gaze. Her eyes were a most intriguing greenish blue framed by long eyelashes. “I don’t think I’ll answer that one,” she murmured. Turning, she started walking toward the main area, and Devon fell into step beside her. “Exploring the area?” she asked, glancing sidelong at him. “In business casual?”

  He arched his eyebrows at her, but it occurred to him that his apparel choices might not be appropriate for blending in here in the mountains of Montana. He’d have to dig out the T-shirts and joggers. “It’s a beautiful area,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she responded, as if she’d designed the mountains and the lake and all the greenery. “I love it here.”

  “Have you lived here all of your life?” Devon was careful not to get invested in people, but something about this woman was drawing him in like nothing he’d ever felt.

  “Yes.”

  “You never left for college?”

  She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. “I got my undergrad and master’s online. Couldn’t leave my grams.” She smiled at him, but she was hiding something.

  “And now you work as a housekeeper or some kind of executive?” He was confused by the different roles he’d seen her in, but sadly, it wasn’t his business to figure out what she was hiding.

  She let out a hearty chuckle, and it made his stomach fill with a longing to hear that sound every day of his life. He quickly tamped those wild and silly feelings down.

  “I’m the hospitality manager,” she said. “My cousin and I are buying out our dads and brothers and taking over the Mystical Lake Resort from my grams.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Impressive. Has Mystical Lake always been in your family?”

  “Yes. The lodge was built in the fifties by my great-grandparents. My grams and pops renovated it completely less than ten years ago; then my pops went to heaven.”

  They were passing the recreational area next to the lodge, where more children and teenagers were playing, whooping, and laughing. “And your dad and brothers?” he asked. He shouldn’t have. He was not only becoming more invested in her; he could tell she didn’t like the question. She hadn’t referenced her mother, so he hadn’t either. Was she alive?

  “They’re off living their lives.” She forced a smile. “Excuse me. I’d better get back to work.”

  “Wait, please.” He held out a hand. “What’s your name?”

  Her smile became more genuine. “Iris Chadwick.” She extended her hand, and Devon wrapped his larger hand around hers. He felt a warmth and a connection that he knew were unique to Iris Chadwick. She was impressive, and she was drawing him in more surely than any woman he’d ever met.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Iris Chadwick. I’m D—” Surprise rushed through him, and he broke off. He’d almost told her his real name. He couldn’t remember the last person he’d told his real name to.

  “I know who you are.” She gave him a sweet smile as he held on to her hand for longer than was probably appropriate.
“Chris Wilson. The guy in room twenty-eight who doesn’t want his toilet to smell fresh and clean.”

  He chuckled, relieved she hadn’t noticed or called him on his slip. “I guess you would know me. Difficult customer and all of that.”

  She laughed. “Definitely. It’s in your file.” Tugging her hand free, she gave him an almost longing look, as if she didn’t want to walk away from him. “I really need to go.”

  “I understand.” He tilted his chin up at her, grateful that she hadn’t asked more about him. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to tell a layperson exactly who he was. That wasn’t smart for her, or for the job he was on.

  He watched her go up the stairs and into the massive lodge. A few seconds later, he followed her and started exploring the main part of the lodge more. The restaurants were all top notch, and he enjoyed a late breakfast slash early lunch. The spa director was more than happy to give him a complete tour and list of all of their therapeutic treatments.

  As he walked back into the main area shortly before noon, he caught a glimpse of long, blond hair and a pink polka-dotted dress. Fading back behind a large potted plant, he settled in to wait. Once he got Antonio’s room number and a little information, he’d simply wait until the man vacated his room, and then he’d bug it with video and audio feeds. After that was done, Devon could monitor what Antonio said and did while in his room and track him when he left through his phone, iPad, or computer. Soon Devon would have the guy nailed to the wall and in prison. Then he’d move on.

  He heard Iris’s lilting voice. It would be a letdown to walk away from her. He pushed that away. It was unrealistic, uncharacteristic, and not something he had time for. Maybe once he had his fifty million, he’d come back here. By that time, Miss Chadwick would probably be married and have half a dozen children of her own. The churning of his gut worsened as Antonio Jasper strutted in like he was king and kissed Iris on both cheeks. Devon hated the disgusting drug dealer for the lives he ruined to make himself wealthy. Even more, he hated the thought of the man touching Iris.

  Devon was forced to watch as the man pretended to be charming and Iris lapped up his attention. He followed them cautiously through their tour of the property, growing more and more disgusted with their flirtations. There were bodyguards trailing Antonio as well. Devon stayed out of the bodyguards’ line of sight, while they avoided letting Iris see them. Interesting that Antonio wanted to appear as if he were alone.

  Devon didn’t know that he could warn Iris away without jeopardizing his mission. He couldn’t reveal who he was or what his purpose was, but somehow, he had to keep her from falling for this loser’s charms, or else she’d end up shared with Antonio’s friends before being sold off. Such a fate was a strong possibility with any woman who got close to Antonio Jasper. Sadly, it appeared Iris was as innocent, fresh, and naïve as he’d thought earlier. From the leering glint in Antonio’s eyes, Devon feared he knew it too.

  Chapter Three

  Grams had been right about one thing: the Italian millionaire was too charming. He had Iris laughing and blushing and agreeing to meet him for dinner before she knew what was happening. The entire time, though, the dapper, gorgeous Chris Wilson lingered in her mind’s eye. Yes, Antonio was captivating, crazy rich, and handsome with his dark, sparkling eyes, smooth, dark skin, and strong build, but it was the blue-eyed guy she’d bantered with this morning who she couldn’t stop thinking about.

  She finally settled Antonio in his penthouse suite. She wondered why one man wanted a three-bedroom penthouse, but maybe when you were that wealthy, you just did it because you could. She also wondered what he would do for a week in the mountains. He hadn’t expressed interest in any of the outdoor activities. As far as she knew, his only plans involved dinner with her. Flattering, but he would probably be very bored here.

  She walked along the main floor corridor toward her office. A shadow darted out of a doorway. She stepped back in surprise, and her heartbeat picked up. When she recognized the exquisite face of the man she’d been daydreaming about all day, she relaxed and smiled. “Chris.”

  He wasn’t smiling at her, though, quite the contrary. His brow furrowed, and his blue eyes glinted at her. “I need to speak to you,” he said in an almost growl.

  “Oh … sure.” She gestured down the hall to her office. “Will this work?”

  He nodded and lifted his palm up for her to lead the way. Neither of them said anything as they walked to her office. As soon as they got inside, he shut the door behind them.

  Iris walked around her desk to put some space between them. Chris was acting off. Even as she watched, he strode around the office, looking things over and cataloguing her world. Finally, he turned to her, marching right around the desk and invading her space. Iris’s heart was racing again. She didn’t know if it was the physical attraction that had her heart thudding—and dang if he didn’t smell like her version of male candy—or if she was threatened and intimidated by how he loomed above her. He was a lot leaner than that Italian millionaire, but he seemed stronger and stood taller. It had been ten years since she’d been threatened by a man. She was strong now and brave, but sadly not brave enough to leave her valley. Doc and Pastor believed that had more to do with her mom’s death and her dad’s desertion than the guy who’d tried to take her into the woods. She thought they were right on, but how did she overcome being deserted by her dad when she’d needed him the most?

  She licked her lips and tried for a professional angle. “What can I do for you, Mr. Wilson? Is everything okay with the room and your experience at the resort thus far?” She pasted on a smile.

  Chris blinked down at her and nodded. “Yes, the resort is perfect. I have no issues there.”

  “Okay … what do you need, then? I’m assuming you have some kind of ‘issue’?”

  Chris’s eyes moved carefully over her face and lingered at the racing pulse point in her neck for a few beats before meeting her gaze again. Those blue eyes were intense. Had any man intrigued her like this before? His allure was undeniable, but there was also an edge of danger. Not that Chris was a danger to her—she didn’t think so, at least—but he’d seen danger and he would protect her. She licked her lips again, and when his eyes darted down to her lips, she just about had heart failure.

  Then he gave a short grunt of frustration, stepped back from her, and started pacing the office. He tugged at his tie and brushed at his dark hair, casting concerned glances at her.

  When Iris couldn’t take the suspense and his obvious irritation any longer, she interrupted his pacing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what is wrong.”

  “Chris, please,” he murmured, but he kept pacing for a half a minute more.

  She put her hands on her desk, leaned forward, and said, “You’re making me dizzy, Chris. What is your ‘issue’?”

  “You,” he flung at her. He swiveled around, also putting his hands on the desk, and leaned forward so only a foot separated them.

  “Me?” She leaned back slightly, needing some distance from the intensity in his eyes and the delicious scent emanating from him. “What have I done?”

  “You’re too innocent, too beautiful, too easy of a target. Do you realize that?”

  She wasn’t sure if those were compliments or slams, but the memory of being an innocent and easy target at sixteen resurfaced. She pushed it away quickly. She’d worked with Pastor Mike to put it behind her, and she wouldn’t allow the fears to surface again. She was strong, safe in her beautiful valley, and the Lord was with her. That was what mattered. “A target for what?”

  “What do you know about human trafficking, Miss Chadwick?”

  Oh, it was “Miss Chadwick” now? “Not enough, but I know it happens in our country.” She straightened so he wasn’t as much in her space, and he followed suit. They stood facing off over the desk. “I help fund a group in California that protects immigrants. The stories they tell are sickening. Entire busloads of i
mmigrants stolen. Men, women, and innocent children snatched and distributed by traffickers because our organization didn’t get to them soon enough. They were easy targets, as they didn’t understand the language and who to trust. Trafficking is horrifying and preventable and …” She sank into her seat, the memory of her own fears returning. She forced it away and focused on the conversation. “To think of children being sold, used, abused …”

  His eyes softened, recognizing and sympathizing with her pain. “Do you recognize you are a target?” he asked quietly, not sitting but leaning forward and staring down at her.

  She gestured around. “I am definitely not a target in Happy Valley.” Not anymore, now that she was safe and smart.

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” He slammed his palm on the desk for emphasis, and Iris jumped.

  “What are you talking about? What do you know?” Out-of-town guests came into Mystical Lake almost year-round, but for the most part, except for the one man who’d tried to hurt her, they were good people. She refused to believe the ugliness of trafficking could penetrate her sanctuary.

  Chris’s eyes became cold, unreadable. “I notice things, and I don’t believe you are taking your safety seriously enough. I would like to suggest that you never go out at night and you do not spend time alone with any man.”

  He’d gone too far. Demanding she not go out at night? She’d wandered this valley after hours for years with her cousins and brothers. Not be alone with a man? As if she couldn’t handle herself. As if she were a naïve simpleton from the backwoods of Montana who would fall prey to human traffickers. There were no traffickers here. Still, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. What if there were? No. Her safe haven couldn’t be penetrated by that ugliness.